She Named My First

In my previous life, during my birthday party, my wife Ruby’s so‑called best friend, Hayden, walked up to me with a glass of wine and a smirk.

“Ruby had a little too much to drink last night,” he said. “I helped her shower. Hope you do not mind.”

I lost my temper on the spot, and I demanded a divorce.

I left with nothing because I wanted to get away from the two of them as quickly as possible.

In the end, I died alone in a rented apartment. No one came to see me, not even once.